


Red Hot Lunaris Parts 1 & 2 of ?

by Geelady



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geelady/pseuds/Geelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisbon and Grace get it on with Jane and Rigsby and "Jane". Not an orgy. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Red-Hot Lunaris  
By Geelady  
A smutty stand-alone!  
*Lunaris is Latin and means “...of the moon.”

CBI  
From an anonymous prompt at Mentalist KINK: “Jane and Lisbon, swimming in the nude in the ocean at night, bonus point, pretty please with cherry on top plus virtual hugs, for sex in the water/on the seaside...”

I decided to make this at a lake and not the ocean. Ocean waves are too tumultuous for the scenes I wanted.

 

CBI

“God, this is boring.” Van Pelt griped for the tenth time about the trip to the lake and their forced stay at the hotel. At any other time she would have been grateful for the diversion from computers and phones but this was a case and because there was no internet service and no currently working phone, Lisbon had her on prisoner duty which meant sitting in the same room with a hand-cuffed suspect to make sure he didn’t go anywhere.

Rigsby sympathised but he for one was enjoying spending a little down time with his former red-headed love interest. “I know, but we can watch a show and order room service. I think the kitchen is still open.”

“In this dump?” Van Pelt answered, not convinced. “Besides, the TV only gets three channels up here. Haven’t these guys heard of satellite? It’s only everywhere on the planet.”

Rigsby put down the old fashioned black dial phone. “Still not working. I’m going to go check on dinner possibilities.” 

While Rigsby excused himself to go check on the kitchen staff about food, Van Pelt amused herself by looking out the window into the night. 

At least there was a full moon. In fact it had a rusty haze look about it. On the surface of the perfectly calm lake through the thin swath of pine she could see its reflection on the water. It was beautiful and there was no one to share it with except for a possible murderer snoring on the rooms only bed and Rigsby who could only think about his stomach.

There was a knock at the door. Van Pelt opened it and Jane stuck his head in. “Hey, wanna’ come down to the lake?" He asked, a glint of fun in his eye. "There’s a lunar eclipse tonight. It’s gorgeous.”

Van Pelt crossed her arms, grumpier now than ever. She tossed a frown back over her shoulder to the prisoner. “Can’t. Lisbon’s got me on snoring jerk duty.”

Jane looked passed her to the sleeping suspect. “Oh, right. I forgot – sorry.” He smiled and it only made Van Pelt madder. 

Once Jane was gone she muttered “Sure. Spoilt consultant gets to do whatever he wants.”

But Jane was right. It would be so nice to go out and walk along the lakeshore and watch the moon as it rolled across the sky. 

Van Pelt remembered she had the CBI issue binoculars in her bag. Pulling them out and adjusting them to her eyes she stepped out onto the balcony and looked toward the moon. Jane was right. Through the powerful Sixty-Time digital zoom set on forty, it seemed as big as a mountain and hauntingly beautiful.

Movement, too, was there in the binoculars vision, and Van Pelt dropped them away to give her eyes a rest, trying to see what it was with her natural vision. 

Something in the water, splashing around. Not a bear because it wasn’t brown or black. In fact it appeared to be white. Looking through her glass devise again Van Pelt zoomed in until the thing, whatever, it was, came into focus. She caught a glimpse of a white backside before it disappeared under the inky water.

Van Pelt frowned, not sure what she had seen and kept looking until whatever it was resurfaced, shaking the water from its hair. It was a person, a man, out for a midnight swim. A blonde man if she was seeing the details correctly. A naked blonde man.

It was Jane. 

Van Pelt swiftly dropped the binoculars from her eyes, feeling guilty for accidently voyeuring Jane in the nude. She bit her lip and turned away, got sight of her snoring, hairy and unattractive prisoner splayed out on the bed, and then turned back, raising the glasses to her eyes once more, only the tiniest twinge of conscience berating her for spying on her naked colleague.

Jane surfaced once more, leaping from the water like an otter and diving under again. Jane appeared to be having the time of his life while she was stuck in a room with an ugly man drooling in slumber. 

She dropped the glasses once more and turned away. It wasn’t fair. She could be out there having fun with Jane – she could be out there with Jane – near Jane – swimming in the same lake with Jane – but instead she was stuck inside with nothing but her imagination.

Plus a pair of really good binoculars. 

Van Pelt raised them to her eyes again, this time resting her elbows on the balcony ledge to steady her hands. There. That made a huge difference. She checked the zoom and realised she had another Twenty Times zoom left. Adjusting them accordingly, Van Pelt never took her eyes off Jane as she zoned in on him, the binoculars to their maximum setting.

Jane was now wading around in the shallower part, nearer the shore, and Van Pelt swallowed reflexively, subconsciously licking her lips. Jane was smooth, nearly hairless and delightful toned. Muscled and fit from his shoulders to his calves. He was clearly not a man who enjoyed the tanning beds at the CBI gym because his skin positively glowed, as white as a new dime, even in the rusty moonlight. Van Pelt felt her heart speed up as she took in a few other details the extra twenty zoom had afforded her. Jane, nicely cut – her preference, was she decided hung fairly average but it was a very, very pleasing looking average. Van Pelt knew Jane was over forty but physically, if what she was seeing was any indication of what she might see up close and personal, the blonde could easily pass for thirty.

All-in-all, her colleague of the dainty tea cups, waist-coats, fancy green salads and chocolate cravings was, in this unguarded, naked-as-a-jaybird moment, pretty damn hot. 

It was weird to see Jane in this way. Up until that moment, she had never thought of Jane as anything other than just, well, Jane. Jane was the guy who poked at you, sometimes to distraction, until he got what he wanted. The guy with the tricks-a-plenty up his sleeve and the lies that rolled off his tongue with the ease of life-long nurture and, she often wondered, nature. The guy who asked for candy from strangers and occasionally hugged or even kissed his boss’s cheeks as though it were the normal thing to do; as though everyone did it. She often wondered if Minnelli had received one of those impromptu pecks on the cheek – or Bertram!

But this Jane, this was another side of him she had never encountered. 

The door opened suddenly making Van Pelt nearly leap out of her skin. Dropping the binoculars to the balcony wicker chair, she stepped back in the hotel room in time to see Rigsby step carefully over to the room’s sole table. Setting down a tray of Styrofoam containers - “They had fried chicken and potatoes with gravy.” he explained helpfully. “You hungry?”

Van Pelt wrinkled her nose. She was, but not for food. “Not really.” She had a great idea. “I think Cho was looking for munchies earlier.” She offered with a smile. “Why don’t you go see if he wants some chicken?”

Rigsby’s face fell.

The image of naked Jane floated before her eyes and another idea swiftly entered her thoughts. Van Pelt hastened to correct Rigsby’s misinterpretation of her suggestion. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I’m just not hungry. Give Cho my portion, and hurry back.”

“What’s going on?’ He asked.

Anxious to get back to the outside view - “Nothing, just hurry it up.”

Once Rigsby was out of the room, Van Pelt took up the binoculars once more, chastising herself. “You’re pathetic, Van Pelt. You’ve sunk to a new low. You’re actually spying on your colleagues’ hot body.” Van Pelt knew she would feel ashamed of herself in the morning.

But she didn’t drop the binoculars.

CBI

 

Part 2

GeeLady

There was a knock at the door. Van Pelt opened it to find Lisbon standing there. “How’s our suspect?” Lisbon asked.

Van Pelt stepped aside so Lisbon could see for herself. “He’s sleeping. Has been since we arrived.” She found it difficult to keep the annoyance from her tone, as much for being stuck in the same room with the guy all evening as for the guy himself and his incessant snoring.

“Good.” Lisbon said. “Mean’s he won’t be giving us any trouble.”

“Yeah.” Van Pelt said without enthusiasm. It figured that her boss would try to put a positive spin on once again hanging her newest team member with guard duty.

“Where’s Rigsby? Isn’t he supposed to be sharing the pain?” Lisbon inquired, looking into the room for him.

“He went to scare us up some dinner.”

“Oh - have you seen Jane? We’ve an early day tomorrow and I’d like to haul his ass to bed at a decent hour for a change.” Lisbon remarked. 

Van Pelt took secret delight in her boss’s unintentional choice of words. “I think he said he was going to down to the lake; full moon or something.” Van Pelt relished the idea of her boss getting caught unawares by Jane’s little midnight frolic in the nude. “If you hurry, you’ll catch him.” 

Lisbon asked curiously. “What do you mean if I hurry?”

“Well, you never know with Jane, do you?” Van Pelt asked, choosing her words with devilish delight. “I mean his tendency to do the unusual is a one of his naked qualities, and he never stays in one position for long.”

“Yeah, well, that’s true.” Lisbon said with a bemused smile. “Well, good night.”

“’Night.” Van Pelt closed the door and went back to her binoculars. Jane was still there, walking along the shore now, water dripping off every inch of him, his skin glistening. She wished she could be there herself to witness the boss’s coming across her normally vest-wearing modestly dressed consultant walking around naked, but she had another agenda in mind for her evening.

Rigsby entered and Van Pelt once more abandoned the binoculars, this time to the desk sitting just inside the window and went to help him with the leftovers on the tray. 

“Cho appreciated the food.” He told her.

“Good.” She said, not really interested. “Wayne there’s something I want from you and you have to promise me you’ll shut-up, okay? You can’t say a word or the deal’s off...”

“Huh?”

Van Pelt walked up to him and planted a big wet kiss of his lips. “Just for tonight. No one has to know. Just for one night – that’s all, but you have to be quiet. Not a word, no whispering, no groaning and especially none of those grunting noises you always make when you’re about to come.”

“Uh...” During her instructions Rigsby’s eyes had grown bigger and wider. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Are you say-?”

“Yes.” Van Pelt assured him, “I’m saying.” She stepped back from him. “So do we have a deal or what?”

“Uh...” 

Van Pelt recognised the expression on his face as Rigsby agreeing without actually knowing why he was agreeing. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She started to shed her clothes. “Well, don’t just stand there, lock the door and take your clothes off.”

“Why the sudden...?” 

Van Pelt shed her flower-patterned tee-shirt and underwear. “Because a fantasy never hurt anyone.” She muttered. Now shut-up.”

Van Pelt had spent many delicious minutes eye-fucking Jane, all the while the sensations becoming more and more physical. Since the opportunity to actually one-on-one fuck the brains out of her blonde colleague was an impossible thing to achieve, for one because she didn’t think the perpetually mourning Jane would go for it, and two, even if he did he would then have something to hang over her head where Rigsby was concerned and probably make her working life a living hell there-after. 

No, the only way she could foresee ever having a taste of the real Jane was if she could somehow slip into his bed, fuck him blind, and then slip out without him ever knowing it happened. For starters, Jane hardly ever slept in a bed so since that was an impossible scenario, and she was in fact now dying to be laid, she saw Rigsby as the only possible nearby donor. But a few whispered words for her own benefit were necessary to keep the fantasy going while she and Rigsby got naked. Van Pelt said in the softest voice, for her own ears alone “I can’t wait to feel you inside me, blondie, and I’m going to make you beg.” 

“Huh?”

“Goddamnit Wayne, I said no talking.” She barked.

Suitably abashed, Rigsby stripped off the rest of his clothes and looked around the room with uncertainty.

Van Pelt had planned for his questions, remarking about the sleeping prisoner “Oh relax, the guy won’t wake up. He wouldn’t wake up if we were invaded by Klingons for god’s sake. And we can use the chair.” Grace made good on her idea by positioning the chair so when Rigsby at down on it, he would face the door, and so when she straddled him, she would face the window, plus the lake and its many tasty visions beyond. “Well come on, we don’t have all night.” 

Any minute now Jane might start getting dressed and it would all be too late!

“You worried about who might see?” Van Pelt asked him, tired of his scrunched up brow. “Well, I got news for you, Wayne; only the owls are going to catch this show.” 

Finally Rigsby did as ordered and sat down on the hard, uncomfortable chair. Van Pelt stood in front of him with a reminder. “Remember what I said, no talking - no noises at all or it’s over before it begins.”

Rigsby nodded, trying to be a good boy and trying even harder not to look at Van Pelt’s lovely breasts bouncing an inch from his nose. But he still had to bite his lip when Van Pelt lowered herself onto his already hard length with a sigh. 

She closed her eyes to block out Rigsby and mentally slipped Jane in his place. Leaning down to kiss him, she tried to imagine Jane’s blonde hair beneath her fingers, Jane’s perfectly smooth chest pressing back against her abdomen, Jane’s pink and swollen hard cock slipping in and out of her, and Jane’s fuller lips parting at her slightest command, plus the best fantasy of all – his dusk-blue eyes looking up at her worshipfully, and waiting patiently for whatever sweet mercies she would deign to bestow on him.

But the lips tasted like Rigsby’s lips and the odor of his skin smelled like Rigsby’s skin. It was spoiling the whole fantasy.

Grace frowned at the mental and physical difficulties presented by attempting to keep one man in mind while actually fucking another. It was proving more problematic than she’d anticipated, and she was already losing the nuances of the fantasy. But there on the desk sat the binoculars that had started it all. 

Making sure to rock steadily and keep Rigsby’s mouth occupied with her left fingers while she did so, with her right fingers, Grace took up the device and peered through their powerful lenses out to the lake. Though the glasses were not steady now due to the combined movements of their bodies, she could clearly see Jane, still naked, walking along the shore, letting the water tickle at his ankles. His hair was swept back from his head, still wet and dripping, and his body shone in the rusty moonlight. Yes, that was it - that was the booster she had needed to firmly capture Jane’s face and form in her thoughts and keep him there. Ten minutes was all she needed and only the smallest voice of guilt haunted her that she was using Rigsby’s body to thoroughly eye-fuck Jane. 

A surge of desire hushed such misgivings, coursing through her and she increased her physical ministrations on her surrogate lay and moaned. Not applying the same rules to herself as she had imposed on Rigsby, Grace muttered under her breath and into his waiting ear –in her mind the blonde man’s ear - sweetly framed as they were by those soft curls - “God – baby, God Jan - uh I mean, fuck baby... that’s s-o-o-o good.” 

CBI

Lisbon shone her pocket flashlight down the pebbled path toward the lake shore. “Jane? Are you out here?” With a sinking feeling of cold fear, Lisbon suddenly recalled the last time she had said those words near water, one of the two most terrible ten minutes of her life when she had discovered Jane’s drowned body floating in a swamp. The other had been her father’s suicide.

Jane had also lost people in horrific circumstances. In that way, she and Jane were more than colleagues or friends, they were like kin. The images of the paramedics trying to shock life back into his blue lips and ashen face was still vivid in her mind. As vivid as her immense relief when he had coughed up murky water and took a struggling breath. At first she’d shed tears because of his death, and then she had shed them because of his coming back to life - back to her.

It was at that moment Lisbon knew beyond any doubt that Jane meant something to her, and more than a little something, she just wasn’t yet sure exactly what. “Jane??” She called again, and then heard the splashing. Someone was in the lake.

Jane came up from beneath the surface, shook the water from his hair and waved. “Hi, Lisbon.”

She walked a few more feet then stumbled over something soft. Shining her flashlight on it, she saw a pile of neatly folded clothing. Jane’s clothes. Suit-jacket, suit-pants, vest, shirt, socks, shoes... 

And a pair of grey cotton boxers.

“Oh.” She said to herself, and then looked out to the spot where he had been trying to find him again, but he was under the water once more. When he finally came back up, she said, a little loudly so he could hear her. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

He shrugged. “Just because a guy drowned me once doesn’t mean I can’t swim.”

Lisbon swallowed the haunting memory, muttering to herself. “Do you have to talk about drowning while you’re in water, you idiot?” The problem was Jane had no self-defence training what-so-ever. Even when an angry suspect hauled back a fist to punch his lights out, which had occurred on more than a few occasions, Jane did not seem to even posses enough of an instinct to step out of the way or duck. With some self recrimination Lisbon recalled that on one of those occasions it had been her fist that had bloodied Jane’s nose. She said loudly enough for him to hear. “Are you coming in? It’s late.”

“It’s early.”

It was nearly one AM. “No it isn’t.”

“Oh, well then – still no.” He said cheerfully. “Why don’t you come for a dip? It’s warm; like bath-tub warm.”

Lisbon took an instinctive step back. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re naked for one thing.”

“Geez, Lisbon, we’re not teenagers, and it’s not like you can see anything.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit with me.”

“Me neither.” He unnecessarily pointed out.

“I’m not coming in the water. I’m going to bed.” She had a dirty thought. Gathering up his clothes in her arms, she called out to him. “Oh, J-a-A-a-ne, I’m taking your clothes with me. Now you’ll have to come in if you want them back.”

“What? - Hey!” He started to swim for shore, and it was then Lisbon realised that perhaps this wasn’t the best of tricks to pull on him since eventually he was going to have to stand up out of the water if he wanted to come after her for his clothing. But Jane stopped before he got close enough to be forced to expose himself to his boss. 

Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief. Not that she was under the impression that he wouldn’t be attractive in the nude, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to be confronted by her naked consultant for whom she already had some conflicting and decidedly non-professional feelings.

“You’re not really going to take my clothes?” He asked, and she could hear the tiniest plea in his tone. It was cute, that plea. And kind of sexy too because Jane never begged anyone for anything, except when it came to his boss. Over the years he had often displayed to her a more vulnerable, a humbler side even to his personality that she liked to believe no one else ever saw. It was part of Jane no one knew about, a sweet side of him that she treasured and kept secret.

“Yes, I am.” Lisbon turned to walk away but then she heard him cry out. She turned back to see what sort of game he was playing but he appeared to be struggling in the water.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone bored, not really believing he was in any danger. It was a trick. Typical. “Jane, if you think I’m going to believe you’ve being attacked by a shark in a southern California lake, you’re crazy.”

His head came up and he was gasping, trying to catch his breath and making awful coughing, air-gulping sounds, as though he were choking on something...

And then he disappeared beneath the water.

Lisbon shouted, louder this time. “Jane. Come on. Cut the crap!” But no Jane appeared. 

Lisbon was not worried. He was probably holding his breath just to make her furious with worry. Lisbon waited. How long can an average person hold their breath under water? One minute? Two? How long had it been? “Jane?” She decided to call his bluff. “I’m still leaving. Ad I’m still taking your clothes with me, so you may as well stop this and come in.”

But he did not reappear.

Lisbon stood there, trying to wait him out, feeling her anxiety building until the inevitable question loomed before her: what if he wasn’t faking?

Had it three minutes now? Four? “Oh, no...” Lisbon dropped the clothes and ran into the water, calling him, her voice getting more and more desperate by the second. “Jane? Jane? – JANE!” Her fear mounting until she could not contain it. “Jane - you bastard! This had better be a joke or I’ll drown you myself.”

But she could not find him beneath the surface. Lisbon thrust her hands under the water, trying to feel for him, but all she felt was water and weeds. “Oh, my god.” She said. She plunged beneath the water, but it was too dark to see anything, not even her hand in front of her face. Her hands touched nothing. She came up again, coughing and panicked. Jane had not been faking. He had been choking on something and she had ignored it. Lisbon spun in a circle, willing him to resurface beside her, gasping but okay. “Oh no, oh my – G-A-WD!” she screamed as a pair of hands grabbed her from behind, making her all but leap from the water.

She spun around to see Jane smiling at her, laughing at her, actually laughing at her, his perfectly straight teeth shining, his eyes sparkling, thoroughly enjoying his joke on her.

Lisbon swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. “You son-of-a-bitch!” Without a second’s hesitation she drew back a well trained fist and landed a hard one right on his nose, whipping his head back and making him lose his balance. He fell over backward in the water with a tremendous splash, his arms pin-wheeling wildly, as he tried to find his footing again while blood poured from his nostrils.

“OW!” Once he had his feet under him, he cupped one hand under his sore nose and stared at his boss with wide shocked eyes as though she was nuts. “You hit me, Lisbon. Again.” 

She snarled in his face. “Well, I hope it’s broken. You deserved it.” She started walking back to shore, forcing her legs through the water as fast as she could, her clothes dripping, her hair sticking to her head in a tangle. Brushing her bangs out of her way with angry fingers, Lisbon listened to him follow her, splashing his way awkwardly through the water. 

Jane caught up to her. “That really hurt. I think it’s broken.”

She ignored his complaints. “Eh, it’ll be an improvement. And maybe next time you’ll think twice about terrifying me.” When she stopped, intending to turn and confront him about his juvenile antics and how he’d as usual brought it all on himself, she heard a sudden splash. When she was finally facing him again, she realised the splash had been Jane quickly sitting down in the water to hide his naked self from her eyes. At that moment his modesty was the only thing showing.

In her angry stew, she had forgotten that he was naked. But Jane was right, even at only two feet deep the water was far too murky and the red-mooned night too dark for her to see anything. She tried not to let her disappointment show. But her anger was draining away as she watched him gently poking at his tender nose. Yes, even in the dark, she could see some swelling, Maybe she had broken it. “Sorry.” She ventured.

Sitting down in the water with her legs pointed the opposite way to his and facing him – what the hell – she took his chin in her hands and turned his head so she could examine the results of her impulsive assault. When she touched a finger to it, he tried to pull away but she wouldn’t let him. “Stop it, I’m trying to help.” She barked, the muttered “You’re such a baby.”

He frowned and said with a distinctively child-like whine “I am not.” 

“Yes, you are.” She said. But it was hard not to grin at the man who had survived Red John and kidnappings and a drowning, sitting in water like a kid in a puddle making coo-ing sounds of pain like a dove with a broken wing. Lisbon finished her examination. “It’s not broken, but it’s going to leave a bit of a shiner I think.”

“Great, I’m going to look like a camel for a week. I’m not coming in on Monday so don’t even call me.”

It was also hard to believe the vanity of the man who slept in his clothes (and pretty well anywhere), who got chocolate stains on his shirt collars, and who wore scruffy tan shoes with his best suit. “You’re impossible.” She said, not without a hint of grudging affection.

Jane did look rather pathetic sitting there touching his nose tenderly with his fingers and scowling at his boss.

“Why did you scare me like that?” She asked him. Her heart had not calmed down even now.

“I didn’t want you to go in.” He said as though it ought to be obvious. “Especially not with my clothes.”

“Well, you scared the hell out of me. You drowned once, Jane.” Lisbon reminded him. “I found your body. You think I enjoy being reminded of that?” 

Clearly the thought of the cruelty of the joke had not occurred to him. He hung his head just a little. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, still palpating his sore nose. “I...didn’t think I guess. I’m sorry.”

There was that vulnerable side, the part of him willing to admit it to her when he’d been wrong, or when he’d hurt her without meaning to.

“But you did take my clothes.” He reiterated.

And there was the other side of him, the man who had to protect his wounded pride. She supposed she couldn’t begrudge him that. He outweighed her by seventy pounds after all and she did just punch his lights out. A man had to recoup from such a humiliation somehow.

Lisbon laughed gently. “I wasn’t really going to.” It was a lie. She looked around. “But I have to admit it, you’re right. It is nice here. But it’s an early day tomorrow and we should go in now.”

“Why?” He asked, unwilling to secede the night over to her more pragmatic and boring agenda. “Stop being so level headed.” He insisted. “Take off your clothes and go for a swim with me. You’re just being the practical, boring Lisbon. Come on, strip woman! You know you want to.”

She was certain of the underline of sexual tease in his words. And there it was again, too - his insufferable, arrogant side rearing its head. The side that just would not let himself be seen as vulnerable for longer than a few seconds. Enough was enough. Lisbon grabbed hold of his upper arms and pushed him down hard into the water until he was on his back, until just his face was above the surface. 

She quickly sat on him, straddling his hips, ignoring his gasp as she pressed her pelvis into his groin, holding his arms above his head and putting her full weight on his wrists. “Why the hell can’t you apologise for something and then let it be? Why do you always have to be so goddamn contrary?”

He wasn’t struggling yet. “You love that about me.” He said, smiling at her fury. “It’s why you put up with me.” He said, his expression reeking of self assurance.

Lisbon felt the startling warmth of his body and before she had the mind to roll off of him, she caught his wide, humor-filled smile – oh! – the sheer hubris in that damn grin was enough to –

Lisbon suddenly stopped moving, staring down intently into his eyes, all expression washing from her face like water off a duck’s back. So much so that it’s sudden transformation wiped the grin from Jane’s face in an instant. With a thrill Lisbon realised he suddenly could not read her at all. 

“Lisbon..?” He asked, puzzled. 

“Why I put up with you..?” she asked back softly. Lisbon felt such a powerful and sexual rush at his predicament. He actually had no idea what it was that she was about to do, even though the rules said no. The boss’s also said no. He was her employee for god’s sake so again it ought to be a resounding no echoing in her brain. But his physical proximity, the feel of his naked skin through her jeans, and the dancing devil/angel whispering in her ear saying yes-yes-yes-Patrick-Jane-the-cause-and-solution-to-all-of-my-frustrations-YES made it impossible to ignore the waves of longing that were sweeping over her! 

“Fuck it.” She whispered, leaning in and altering his expression from one of confusion to that of astonishment. “That’s not the only reason.” She said and kissed him. 

CBI

“Oh-oh-oh-oh...” Through the binoculars Grace had witnessed the events down at the lake and Lisbon’s tackling Jane in the water and it was the last push she needed to complete the fantasy of naked Jane beneath her, giving it up because she was giving him no choice. Because as a man - because as a man who as far she knew had been willingly celibate for over nine years (probably some kind of record) - he couldn’t help but obey every tight squeeze of her pelvic muscles or every delicious arch of her long back. “Yes, baby,” She moaned into Rigsby/Jane’s ear, “Give it to me, give it up for Grace, come on, come for me, angel, come for me, you know you want to.” 

Rigsby, lip bleeding from trying to stifle his own moans and gasps, panted like a bloodhound, trying to give Grace what it was she wanted. It was only one night, only one night - but holy god what a night...

Grace arched her back when she came, “O-o-oh m-my god-oh-my-god-oh-my-god...” she said over and over as the waves of orgasm from “Jane’s” deliciously hard cock overtook her. “Yes, baby. Fuck, yes, Jane, oh god baby...”

Rigsby opened his eyes as his own orgasm passed and his penis turned to back into jello inside her. “D-did you say Jane??” He managed to finally speak, assuming the no-talking rule was now at an end.

Grace stood up, releasing him from her female grip. “Don’t be an idiot. I said Wayne.” She said making sure her tone was just a little bit angry. During their year-long affair, Wayne had learned never to question her when she was mad at him for something. “Why in the world would I say Jane??” She asked him as though it was the most idiotic question ever. “He’s not even my type.” As far as you knew.

But now she was anxious for Rigsby to amscray. “That was nice, Wayne. Thanks.”

Rigsby cleaned himself off and swiftly slipped into his jeans and tee-shirt. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

Van Pelt gathered up the tray with Rigsby’s left-over and largely untouched chicken dinner, handing it to him. “Would you mind returning this to the kitchen?” She asked, even though the hotels one maid would probably clean it up the next morning.

Rigsby gathered it up. “Sure, okay. No problem.”

Grace smiled her sweetest grin at him. “Thanks Rigsby.” And closed the door after him, turning the dead-bolt. She hoped Lisbon was having as much fun with Jane as she just did. “Show Jane what’s what, boss.” She said to the empty (but for the still snoring prisoner), room. “Go get ‘im.”

CBI Part 3 asap


	2. Part 3

Red Hot Lunaris Part 3

It was difficult to slip off wet jeans, tee-shirt asnd bra' but somehow she managed. Lisbon had to wrestle Jane into position. He was still so shocked by the kiss, he had almost not recovered in time to notice she was wriggling around on his pelvis trying to coax some life into his penis, not an easy task in the cooling water.

“Lisbon?” He squeaked. “What are you – are you sure you want to – “OW!” He gasped when she had nearly bent “him” double.

“Sorry.” She muttered and kissed him again to stifle any more protests. “Come on, Jane, you know you want to.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently as he pushed her off and sat up. “What’s gotten into you?” He said and it was her turn to be startled. He was actually upset. Lisbon sat up, groaning at her situation. I’m in love with a prude, she thought. It had to be the vests. They were magic somehow, or cursed. Somehow they turned him into a gentleman and as charming as his dignified as his manners toward women were, and as loyal as his heart and flesh still were toward his wife, it was also clearly going to be a problem.

“Jane,” She said. “Come on, this is perfect.”

Jane was about to stand when he remembered he had no clothes on. “No, it isn’t.” He answered. “I’d like to think if I’m going to cheat on my wife; it isn’t going to be just some meaningless frolic.” 

“”Cheat” on your wife??” Lisbon repeated back to him. “I got news for you – “

Jane waved away what she was about to say. “I know, I know, she’s dead, so it can’t be cheating.” He said. “Well, it may not be actually be cheating, but it still feels like cheating.”

Lisbon had to know. “Jane, are you still so in love with her that you think you’ll never be able to move on?”

He shook the water from his hair, spraying her in a shower of droplets. “One midnight romp is not moving on. Now turn your head.”

“Why?” She asked.

He frowned. “Because I want to get out of the water now. I’d like to get dressed.”

That was not what she had in mind at all. “Jane...” she reached out to touch his face. Surprisingly he let her. “I don’t want a one night romp.” She said. “I want more than that. I want two, three nights - lots of nights.” She stroked his cheek. “Every night.”

His expression was peeved. “You hit me.” He said quietly, his dignity affronted. “Angela never hit me.”

Lisbon sighed. It was the gods who had cursed her to fall in love with a dandified, tea-drinking adolescent. Had to be. “I won’t ever hit you in the nose again, I promise.” She said, though not letting him off the hook “But you were cruel.”

“Didn’t mean to be.” He said.

Maybe it was true. Maybe, with some of things in life, things he had not been exposed to growing up, like not terrifying the woman you supposedly considered a friend, Jane possessed no filters. It was going to be fascinating hearing about his younger years, the times of his life that had nothing to do with Red John or murder. “Okay. I believe you.”

He made ready to stand. “Can I go now?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Lisbon I’m tired and my face hurts.”

“I have a question.”

Jane sat back in the water with a little splash. “Fine, Miss Mushy Lips, what’s the question?”

“Do you love me, Jane?” She smiled, because she knew she did. She loved this man, as insane as it was, as insane as he was, she did. Denying it anymore would just be stupid. “Do you?”

It was out there, now all he had to do was answer. It was obvious from his face that he was struggling with it. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way. Or maybe he was too afraid to commit to it. Maybe he never would be ready. Maybe Misses Angela Jane had too powerful a grip on his heart even now. Or maybe it was guilt that had him locked in its unforgiving fist, but his eyes searched her as though looking for the answer there. 

He sighed, a long heavy exchange of lung air that sounded old and tired. “Yes.” He finally said. “I mean how could I not?”

Good. That was good. She offered an upturned palm to him. A simple shrug-like gesture. “Then why -?”

“Because if we ...start this, for me it can’t stop.” He said simply. 

The intensity behind his words was a little disconcerting - a tad frightening actually. What did taking on Jane romantically mean exactly? He would have to explain himself better than that. “I don’t think I...“

“Do you have any idea,” He asked, “what losing you would do to me?”

Lisbon stared back, completely out of her depth now. “Um...er - not really...no...” Hurt him? Drive him insane? Would he hurt himself? “I have no plans to cheat on you, you know.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jane smiled softly and took her hand in his two, holding it closely, stroking her fingers with his own. It was a remarkably sensual gesture and she could feel her heart responding to it, speeding up. “I’m over forty years old, Teresa. I have no family. No place that I think of as home anymore...and I’m tired. I’m also looking for a serial killer whom I plan to kill when I find him, no matter what the consequences to me are, even if that means I go to jail or he kills me too, which would mean that I would Lose.You.”

So if Jane didn’t take her as his own, then he couldn’t lose her either, she reasoned. “So you want me to promise...what? That I’ll hide my eyes when you kill Red John, even though it’s against the law?” He knew her well enough to know that the Law meant something to her. But what he didn’t know was that he meant something to her, too. He meant a lot actually. More and more each day.

“I mean I can’t promise to do the right thing according to the law when the time comes. I mean I want him dead.” He underlined it. “Not sitting in a jail cell writing his memoirs and signing a contract for a movie in which my murdered wife and child are prominent features.”

Of course he wouldn’t. It was hardly an unreasonable desire. “You know, Jane, it’ll probably come down to that anyway, Red John dying I mean. It’ll either be we kill him or he kills us. I don’t expect him to give himself up only to face the death penalty.”

“We?” He asked, noting the plural.

“Of course, we.” She said. “You think I want you going all half-cocked after Red John on your own again? No way. You’d probably get lost.”

He let out a small guff of laughter but it quickly died. 

Was Jane worth it? Was he worth compromising her principles just enough to affect the outcome of whatever may come where Red John was concerned? Because bad things happened - didn’t they? – To even the best laid CBI plan. A gun can go off, someone can fall down a cliff, or a knife can slip and slice into an artery. Lots of bad things in fact. 

Was Jane worth ignoring such an accident if or when it should occur? Yes. Absolutely, yes. It wasn’t even a debate anymore. “You want me to say that I’ll help you kill Red John when we find him?” she asked. “No, I can’t make that promise.” She said. “But unexpected circumstances happen every day on the job. And suspects die all the time while in police custody, Patrick.” She tried out his first name. It fell from her lips without a hitch. Not as familiar as “Jane” but she could get used to it. “You know, by accident.”

He stared back at her, and she wondered if it was enough for him. Too vague? 

“You mean...?”

“Yes.” She said. “I mean...” 

That seemed to settle him. She kissed him. “Now do you want me to come swimming or not?”

He smiled and leaned over to whisper it into her ear. “Yes, I want you to come... swimming.” Then he kissed her just below her earlobe and a shiver ran down her body. He really was a con-man. 

Shedding her clothes, she pushed him down and settled onto his straining erection. “O-h-h-h-h-h...” It had been months and months since she’d seen Walter Mashburn, not that she had Walter in her head at that moment but it was delicious having a cock inside her again, most especially since it was Jane’s cock.

Lisbon rocked on him gentle for a while, savouring the hard feel of him, and the incredible sensations of his hands cupping her ass and the muscles of his chest flexing beneath her fingers. But things were not advancing quickly enough for him it seemed because in a show of strength that sent her head spinning, in one single smoothly executed motion he flipped her over onto her ass and drove his cock into her feverishly, relentlessly pounding into her while devouring her lips and plunging her mouth with his tongue. The sand beneath her gave this way and that and she shifted with it, all the while Jane pumped madly, seemingly trying to nail her to the earth.

Lisbon responded by lifting her hips up to meet him with each thrust. He was getting close, pulling out and then driving home faster and deeper – with each thrust he was striking her cervix and she knew if she did not keep up with the long deprived Jane, she wasn’t going to get a finale’. 

When he came he groaned loudly into her ear, clutching at her head and shoulders blindly and biting into her neck until it actually hurt. But it was a good hurt she decided, and unexpected treat from a man she had assumed would be rather reserved under the covers - or in the water as it turned out. 

The love nibble was erotic and secretly she hoped it’d leave a mark for a while. She was branded now. She belonged to him. And he was hers - finally-god-finally! 

Jane, unaware of her thoughts, was caught up in the moment and continued to pump madly, even after his orgasm had to be long over but Lisbon did not complain as just then she came too, wrapping her legs around him while a short but satisfying wave of pleasure came and faded, one that she wished would have gone on and on and on. But with practise... 

After a few minutes of lying on top of her panting, Lisbon kissed his cheek and said. “Hey, I’m drowning here.”

Jane rolled off with a self-depreciating grin. “Sorry - didn’t want to break the moment.”

She didn’t want him to go too far, though, and took his hand, making him lie down in the water beside her, entwining her fingers in his, so he understood that he was hers now and no arguing. “Oh we are going to be doing that a lot.” She announced.

Jane turned his head to look at her. “Lisbon, you are a devil. I should run for the hills.”

Lisbon said “But you won’t.”

He stared up at the stars and the moon, its blood-rust colour lightening over to its normal yellow-white. Jane didn’t believe in signs, but maybe it was one anyway. “No, I won’t.” He answered. 

Lisbon sat up. As much as she would have loved to stay out there and talk like two lovers, or ride him like a thoroughbred again, they really did have an early morning. “Look, we need to keep this under wraps for now until I can figure out some way around the rules. Since you’re a consultant there might be some wiggle room.

“I like the way you say wiggle.”

She slapped his arm. “Jane, I’m serious. No bragging how you scored with the boss until I figure this out.”

Jane suddenly laughed out loud, possibly the first time she had ever heard him emit genuine guffaws of laughter. “You really ought not to put such wicked desires into my head, Lisbon, unless you want me to brag of course? I could develop a rating system...”

She slapped him again, harder this time. “Stop it.”

“You hit me.”

“On the arm –whoopee-ding. You are such a baby.”

He smirked at her. “But you love me.” 

“And annoying.”

“But you love me.”

She stopped, knowing it was just a game they had been playing for years. “Yes. I do.” She stood up and he took a moment to admire her naked form while she collected her soaked clothing from the edge of the lake. “Come on. Let’s go in. I’m cold now.”

He sat up and she threw him his pants. As he slipped into them - “I’m sneaking into your room tonight, you know.” 

She zipped up and pulled her tee-shirt over her head, not bothering to try and put on a wet bra’, which would only chafe. “I figured. If anybody see’s you, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re so violent.”

She smirked. “But you love me.”

“And bossy and demanding.”

“But you love me.”

He watched her slip into her flat sneakers. “Yes I do.”

CBI

The next day, back at the office, Lisbon made herself coffee in the kitchenette. Van Pelt entered and took a bottle of water out of the fridge. 

“Enjoy your swim?” Van Pelt asked.

Lisbon looked sharply at her. “Who said I went-?” Then stopped at the knowing expression on her underling’s face. Lisbon asked “How did you know?”

Van Pelt shrugged. “Good view from my window.” And how. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” She had her own secrets to keep. And her own plans. Later she would call Rigsby and find some way to make it up to him, though not by telling him of course. There were other ways. She wondered if there were any all-night outdoor swimming pools in the area.

For a reason she could not define Lisbon found herself blushing. “Thanks.” No other information was required.

Van Pelt sipped from her bottle. “Just returning the favour.”

Lisbon understood. For her and Rigsby.

“Boss?”

Lisbon stirred her coffee. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad.” 

Lisbon nodded. Grace’s sincerity was unmistakable. She was a good person.

Van Pelt passed Jane on his way from the bullpen to the kitchen. 

“Good morning.” He said cheerfully. 

Despite what she knew was the shortness of his night, he looked rested. Van Pelt smiled to herself, the devil in her eye. “Good morning J-a-a-ne.” She answered back in a sing-song. As Jane passed, she landed a sharp slap on his left butt cheek.

She heard him freeze in his tracks and turn to stare after her. In her mind’s eye Van Pelt could see the shocked look on his face. 

“Sorry.” She muttered. “My hand slipped.”  
CBI  
END :D


End file.
